Jamaican Me Crazy
by romancejunkie
Summary: Shawn's favorite iced confection is nowhere to be found and he's a wreck.  Can Lassiter put a smile back on the psychic's face?   Bad summary, oneshot, Shassie.


This turned out differently than I had planned, because the original idea was for Shawn to use the phrase "Jamaican me crazy" on Lassiter, but instead, this evolved.

* * *

Disclaimer: I do not own any publicly recognizable title, brand, or character.

It didn't take Carlton Lassiter long to deduct that Shawn Spencer was not himself today. It was after lunchtime and he still hadn't been practically molested during one of the resident psychic's visions, or interrupted while doing paper work, or otherwise bothered, irritated, aggravated, or disturbed. At all. Not once.

And against his better judgment, Lassiter was worried. He had seen the psychic, but each time he passed by with an increasingly worried expression and a cell phone pressed against his ear. His partner in crime Gus was at his pharmaceutical job today and O'Hara had called in sick so there was no one he could casually ask for information on Spencer's stranger than normal behavior. After the twelfth pass of the franticly pacing man, Lassiter finally decided to react.

"Spencer! What the hell are you doing?" he bit out, grabbing Shawn's elbow to still him.

"What am I doing, Lassieface? What am I doing! I'm calling every ice cream shop, grocery store and gas station in Santa Barbara and no one has it! Not one carton!" Shawn yelled, flailing his arms around for effect.

"Carton of what, Spencer?"

"Jamaican Me Crazy!"

"Uhm, excuse me?" Lassiter remained confused.

"They're discontinuing my favorite flavor of Ben & Jerry's, Lassiepants! Jamaican Me Crazy is the perfect blend of delectable pineapple sorbet swirled with passion fruit goodness and chunks of pineapple! Double pineapple! And it's non-fat! It's the single most delightful, enchanting, and delicious iced treat ever to grace the face of the earth, next to the pineapple smoothie of course, and I wake up this morning to find out that it's being discontinued. And now I can't find it anywhere! I can't even stock up for the apocalypse properly, Lassie!"

After his melodramatic rant that would make even the most experienced soap opera star dizzy, Shawn disappeared in a whirl. Carlton stood stock still, disbelieving that the lack of a simple ice cream flavor could be this devastating. On the other hand, he reasoned, this was Shawn Spencer he was talking about.

At some point during Lassiter's paperwork-infested day, Chief Vick had ordered Shawn home because he was being disruptive, as if this was something new rather than an everyday occurrence. The lack of psychic was a double edged sword in Carlton's opinion, because whether he admitted it or not, Shawn kept him entertained through the tedious days of the paperwork, and this particular day seemed to drag on and on without the least bit of distraction. However, Shawn's absence also meant that he got a lot more accomplished and was able to make it home at a reasonable hour.

Rummaging through his freezer for something to eat, Carlton's hand closed on a small pint container of ice cream he'd bought on a whim and forgotten about. Pulling it out, his eyes widened in disbelief at the bright yellow label. Jamaican Me Crazy. A container of the object of Shawn's anguish had been sitting unopened in his freezer for God knows how long. Rolling his eyes, Lassiter shut the freezer and grabbed his keys, heading out the door.

* * *

After parking behind Shawn's motorcycle at the Psych office, he hesitated, unsure of exactly what to say when he delivered the treat. Leaving it on the doorstep was a good option except he didn't want the confection to go undiscovered and melt. Shoving it at Shawn as soon as the door opened and then leaving as soon as possible seemed a little rude but more in character than explaining that he was bringing him the ice cream at 11 pm on a Thursday night because the frown on Spencer's face today had unsettled him and he wanted to make him smile. Scowling, Carlton decided just to wing it and knocked on the door.

A rather put out looking Shawn answered, "Lassie?"

He cleared his throat, "Uhm, here. I, uh… this was in my freezer and I thought you would appreciate it more…"

Sighing, he pushed the pint of Jamaican Me Crazy into Shawn's hands. The younger man's face immediately brightened and he cradled the carton with a look akin to pure joy.

"Well, I'll just be going back home. Enjoy the ice cream. Goodnight." Carlton fumbled for an excuse to leave, stepping backwards from the door.

He was halfway to his car when he heard Shawn call out to him.

"Sorbet."

"What?" Lassiter turned around in confusion.

"It's sorbet."

"Oh, well, enjoy your sorbet then." He tried to ignore how Shawn was studying him, as though trying to figure out his motives, and if Lassiter was honest, he wasn't so sure he understood them himself.

"Wanna share it?" Shawn asked, with what Lassiter swore was a blush covering his cheeks. "I mean, I was just about to watch Pretty In Pink. You could join me. After all, it is your sorbet."

Carlton bit back a smile at the choice of movie, recognizing it as one of the few 80's movies Shawn constantly quoted that he had actually seen. He vaguely remembered enjoying the film, and Shawn still hadn't stopped _looking_ at him that way, but now it felt more intriguing than embarrassing.

"Sure, why not." he conceded, following Shawn through the door, trying to ignore the delight and mischievousness now apparent on the psychic's face.

"Why, Lassie, this seems like a fine first date!" Shawn exclaimed, back to his old self, looping his arm through the detective's and making the older man groan and roll his eyes.

"Don't make me regret this, Spencer."

"But Lassieface, I haven't even managed to use 'Jamaican Me Crazy' as a pickup line yet! The night is still young!"

"Spencer!" he warned halfheartedly, shutting the door behind him. "This is going to be a long night..."


End file.
